Inhale, exhale, repeat
by Nunki S
Summary: Renji has a certain problem involving his captain. His drinking buddies do nothing but aggravate it, be it on purpose or not. Moral of the story? Never put your love life in the hands of a bunch of drunkards. Renji/Byakuya, oneshot.


**Inhale, exhale, repeat**

One night out drinking, Renji confesses his captain has a peculiar effect on him. In turn, his friends give him progressively ridiculous advice. Whether they're genuinely trying to help or they're just teasing the gullible lieutenant, that's debatable.

Warnings: (ab)use of alcohol, Shuuhei needs emotional therapy and at some point Kira turns into a Hypell—er, gets embarrassingly drunk. Actually, this whole fic is quite absurd.

* * *

"Whenever I see him, I... I start breathing manually."

The way Ikkaku dropped to the floor hugging his sides and laughing like a madman made the young shinigami wish he'd just kept his mouth shut. He looked down and clutched the legs of his hakama pants, feeling sheepish, his cheeks incandescent. To his left, Kira inhaled slowly and deeply.

"Crap, now I'm breathing manually too." The blond added a couple more curses and swallowed all the sake left in his cup in a single gulp. Then he sighed, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I need more, dammit!"

"Same here," Renji groaned, although he wasn't sure which part he was seconding. Both, perhaps. "Just by thinking about..." Wheeeze. "...Captain Kuchiki, I..."

"I, um, I may be wrong, don't get mad if I'm wrong, but," Hisagi timidly raised a finger as he struggled to keep an eye open, trying to escape his alcohol-induced slumber, "I think it's because you like hi—"

"Go back to sleep, Captain Obvious," Yumichika piped up as he conked the eldest of the three lieutenants on the head. Hisagi obeyed, and started snoring softly in a matter of seconds. "Ah, love is indeed the most beautiful of feelings. When it's directed towards you, I mean."

The love-afflicted redhead was grateful someone was still sober enough to hold a half-decent conversation, though he was surprised Yumichika's lithe body could hold alcohol better than his generally more muscular friends'. On a closer look, however, Renji discovered with horror the fifth seat wasn't quite so sober: he was wearing that beatific smile he only wore when he was inebriated (or after a good fuck, but he preferred not to remember how he discovered the fact), and a drunken Ayasegawa Yumichika was a sign of very, veeery bad things to come.

Yumichika climbed across the table and lunged forward to cup Renji's cheeks.

"You need to tell him." Neither the tone of his voice nor the look in his eyes admitted any objections. "Do it."

"Yeah, let's do it!" a blurry-eyed but determined-looking Kira chorused.

"Whaddaya mean 'let's', I'm the one that'll have to..."

"Captain Kuchiki..." Yumichika went on, making his voice drop a couple octaves and giving it a gruff edge, making an impression of Renji. "Whenever I see you, I start breathing manually!" He finally collapsed in a giggle fit, knocking over Kira's half-empty cup in the process ("Bloody fuck, Ayasegawa, how am I supposta... hic!... drink now?").

"I refuse!"

"You can't refuse!"

"Damn well I can!"

"No you can't," he pronounced, "it's four votes against one."

"What kind of fucked up logic is th—... There's not even four of you to speak of anymore." Not when one of them had been lying on the floor muttering incoherencies for the past five minutes, and the other was currently embraced by Morpheus.

"Of course there's four of us. What do you think, Ikkaku, shall we make him do it?" Still sprawled on the table, Yumichika reached down to grab his comrade's arm and lifted it. Then, without even bothering to change his voice: "I, Madarame Ikkaku, third seat of the Eleventh, agreeee!"

"Uh yeah, what... whatever. Who'sss payin' for the next round, huh?" Said third seat didn't seem to care much.

Kira repeated the process with his snoozing senior:

"I, Lieutenant Hisagi Shuuhei of the... hic... Ninth Division, second this motion!"

Hisagi mumbled something in his sleep.

—

Well, four (four, really?) people sharing an opinion couldn't be wrong, even if they were a little tipsy (a little, really?).

...Right?

In retrospect, Renji should have known better than to trust a giddy drunk, an angry drunk, an almost naked plastered drunk and a sleepy —sleeping, actually— drunk . However, that, he could promise: when he knocked on the door of his captain's office he was full of nothing but good intentions.

"Captain, every time I see you I start breathing manually." It sounded so much cooler in his mind. That was the closest thing to a love confession he'd ever uttered; confessions were supposed to make hearts go pitter-patter, not sound like he was describing a symptom to his doctor... so fucking _prosaic_.

Nevertheless, his words did have some effect on the nobleman.

"Wh—...?" Byakuya stood completely frozen, wide-eyed, forgetting to keep his composure for an instant. It looked as if his all his energy had escaped him through his slightly hanging mouth. Moments passed; finally, his captain came to life again, and only at that time Renji remembered to fill his lungs with the oxygen his hungry cells had been furiously demanding. The two shinigami exhaled in unison, their gazes locked on each other, and Renji feared some colour had crept into his cheeks.

A few more moments of stillness. Byakuya breathed in again, sharply, then out with a sigh. The way his chest rose and fell had a hypnotic quality, even under the many layers of clothing. One day, one day he'd peel them off one by one, Renji thought, unaware that he'd taken his captain's breath away... literally. And that Kuchiki Byakuya, being Kuchiki Byakuya, wasn't amused at all by the fact, or by his inability to just _stop_ focusing on his air intake and let it follow its natural course.

"Abarai Renji." He finally spoke up, his features having transformed from an uncharacteristically distraught look to a stare that could have frozen a Plinian eruption. "Is this your idea of a practical joke?"

—

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"You know what. How'd it go?"

Renji had no choice but to tell his eager buddies, quite begrudgingly, that his attempt had been completely fruitless. Okay, no, that was a lie: it had earned him extra office hours for a week as a punishment, and he didn't even understand what he'd done to deserve that.

"Aw, that's disappointing." Matsumoto pouted as she stirred the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. "And here I thought I'd get some juicy details today..."

"Lame." Those were Ikkaku's succinct thoughts on the matter.

—

Having to work extra hours without the corresponding extra pay was not something Renji would normally look forward to, but even that cruel outcome had a perk: spending more time at work meant spending more time with his captain, after all. His captain, the man that had the power to make his body forget about one of its automatic functions... the man that sometimes made another part of him function a bit _too_ automatically, much to his dismay.

Every time he crossed paths with Byakuya, his lungs became devoid of air. Every time he caught a glimpse of his bewitching eyes, every time they shared a single word, he had to spend countless minutes monitoring his breathing patterns afterwards. It wasn't until the third day that he noticed the similar symptoms on the older man; they were subtle, but he was sure they weren't just a figment of his imagination. After stumbing upon Renji on the corridors of the Sixth, he'd walk away at a slightly quicker pace, his brows twitching, making a barely perceptible sniffing noise. Byakuya was inherently quite skittish, but he'd avoid looking at Renji to the point he'd turn his back on him even when greeting him in the morning; if he accidentally glanced at his lieutenant, he would stop dead for a moment... then his next breath would be two times as deep and double the length.

Of course, that avoiding behaviour only made Renji want to see him even more. He'd use any excuse to go meet him, longing to catch a sight of his adorably flustered expression, and he'd stand as close as he could until his captain asked him (sometimes nicely, sometimes not so much) to stop invading his personal space.

It was one of those times he travelled towards his office without any specific business or plan in his mind, when he found the door ajar. Byakuya was leaning on his desk, massaging his temples with gloved hands.

"Curse you, Renji," he mumbled to himself, not noticing the source of wild spiritual pressure behind the wall.

Renji stopped in his tracks. That had been his name, right? Or were his ears betraying him?

Byakuya then tilted his head backwards with a tired sigh, removed his kenseikan and ran his slender fingers through his scalp. "Why is it I cannot stop thinking about..."

_Breathing_, that was the word that wrapped it up, but the thumping and buzzing that had assaulted Renji's ears prevented him from hearing the rest. He clutched his chest as he felt his whole body heat up. Surely that meant... No, that would be too good to be true!

The very notion that he was affecting Byakuya the same way Byakuya affected him was, to Renji, like an express ticket to Cloud Nine. Everywhere he went, he'd show up with a stupid smile, and that smile didn't even fade when a flock of kids came and poked him with sticks for no reason, or when some astute shopkeeper tried to rip him off, or when a bird made a nest in his hair while he was taking a peaceful nap outside.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, the object of his affections was miraculously returning his feelings, and he was the happiest man alive, or dead!

—

"Huh?"

"_What?_"

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"Man, you sure?"

"We are talking about the same Captain Kuchiki, right?"

Six shinigami were huddled around a small table. Around them laid a good number of empty bottles; some others, filled with cheaper and obviously lower-quality alcoholic drinks, were in the process of being emptied.

"Yeah, I don't know why or how, but," Renji pondered, staring at the bottom of his own glass, "that must mean he likes me, too. I've been thinking and thinking about it, haven't found any other reason he'd..."

Hisagi, still awake, murmured: "Actually, there are many other reasons h—mmmphf!" Before he could finish his corrosive comment, though, Matsumoto's hand was clamped over his mouth.

"So. Any plans to ask him out?" she asked with an impish smile.

"Ask him out?" Renji started fidgeting. "I... don't think I'm bold enough to."

"Better if you don't," Hisagi muttered darkly as Matsumoto released him. "You'd just get yourself both emotionally and physically hurt." Then he hung his head down.

"Quit popping other people's happiness bubbles, will you?" Yumichika sighed, visibly annoyed. "Goodness, has anyone ever told you you're a real downer when drunk?"

When the scarred lieutenant raised his head again, his lips were quivering and his eyes were full of tears threatening to spill.

Ikkaku shook his head. "Oh for fuck's sake, someone give this man a hug."

"Are you trying to make me feel bad...?" Yumichika twitched, and glared at the two men.

Despite his initial reaction, however, he found himself lightly patting the heartbroken... not friend. Acquaintance. Seconds later, Hisagi was sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder, and he sat upright, looking as tense and disgusted as if he had slugs climbing all over him, complaining that the louse was getting snot on his uniform and yelling he was going to make him pay for the dry cleaning. Matsumoto was watching the scene with curious interest, mindlessly nibbling on a finger.

"I wonder if Shuuhei's been rejected lately..."

"Ssshpeaking of hugs, hey..." Kira, who'd been surreptitiously chugging down a whole bottle of you don't want to know what, joined in the conversation again. "I know jush' what you need to do!" he announced, his nose as red as a tomato, pointing at a perplexed-looking Renji. He stood up, wobbling and leaning on the table for support, and motioned at the redhead to do the same.

"C'mere, I'll show you." He held his arms out as an invitation.

"Look at meek widdle Izuru, he sure knows how to treat a guy! Damn, you had this side of yours really well hidden, you rascal!" Matsumoto giggled, nudging whatever part of him she could find from her position on the floor. It happened to be Kira's knee.

"Pleashe don't teashe me!" he whined, his blush becoming deeper. "Alright, so. If you hug sh... someone... hic! If y'do it around the waist, and like really quick, you shift their grav... gravity shentre, yeah? And the body bends like thish!" He made an awkward impression of someone going under a limbo stick. Miraculously, he didn't fall on his ass.

"Captain Kooshieki's always... hic... standing so shtraight, but this technique is in-fal-li-ble! So you make him lose his balanshe and attack when he's _vulunebularable_."

"That's right, attack him!" Matsumoto clapped, egging him on.

"You know..." Renji considered, "this might actually work. Whoa, you're making a lot of sense, for being drunk."

"You only think that 'cause yer drunk yerself," Ikkaku pointed out before bursting out laughing.

"Shilence! I'll prove this works a hundred pershent of times, you cretinous... hic! cue ball!" Kira, who had lost part of his uniform at some point in time, retorted. Ikkaku didn't hear him, fortunately.

Among teasing catcalls from the amused spectators, he wrapped his arms around Renji's waist and pulled him into a sudden, tight embrace.

Renji barely even moved.

"Eh, it doesn't work with you." Kira seemed to have forgotten he was the shorter and skinnier one of the two.

"Embrace him tightly and look into his eyes, then kiss... it's so – sniff – romantic..." Hisagi, whose head was nestled in an unwilling Yumichika's lap, sniffled again and blew his nose on the other man's pants. Yumichika's face turned white.

"Uh-huh. Actually, wait, don't kiss him just yet." It was rare for Matsumoto to show caution, so Renji thought what she was going to say might be important. He laid a passed out Kira on the floor as carefully as he could, and made sure to pay attention.

"That guy is really touchy... even touchier than my captain, if that's possible," she continued. "That pride of his and blah, blah... He's not going to appreciate it if you come on too strong, hm? I say you let him pretend he's in control. Let him set the pace, wait for a positive sign and _then_ kiss him." In conclusion, she yawned. "This is the safest method, but it's _sooo boring_!"

"Bullshit, what that man needs is for someone to rough him up. Just pin him to the wall and have yer way with him. Give those creepy voyeurs at the Twelfth something to remember."

"I am of the same opinion as Ikkaku. Pin him to the wall and—" At that moment, Yumichika noticed Hisagi had fallen asleep again and was drooling onto his precious robes. "...kill... kill...!"

"Yeah, and grab his ass for good measure," Ikkaku advised, "nothing says 'yer mine' like a good ass grabbing."

—

Renji made sure he was clean-shaven, wore the best clothes he could find in his limited wardrobe and spent thrice as much time styling his hair. The result was far from perfect, but he'd make up for it with enthusiasm. He'd been going over his friends' advice (he'd written a couple keywords on the back of his hand, just in case) and, well, he still didn't have a plan, but at least he had some guidelines.

An avalanche of doubts slammed him as he, once more, made his way towards his captain's office. What if he fucked up? What if Byakuya returning his feelings was nothing but a dream, conjured up by his tired mind? He could almost hear his melodic yet particularly icy voice going "remove yourself from me immediately." That wouldn't be a surprising outcome, huh?

...No, he had to be brave. He had to conquer his fears, or he'd stay a loser dog forever. Still, he couldn't shake off the idea that he was about to play a risky game of double or nothing, a game in which his heart and his future were at stake.

No second chances.

When he finally crossed the threshold, however, all his thoughts, every single word he'd been trying to memorize escaped him, leaving him with a completely blank mind. He just stood there idiotically as an exhausted-looking Byakuya walked up to him.

"I assume you have come to apologize."

Renji opened his mouth, as if to say something. Nothing came out. Considering the other man's mood, maybe it was for the best.

Byakuya bit his lip, and his voice showed traces of that childish, impatient nature he worked so hard to hide. "It bothers me to the point of obsession. Are you aware of how much it cripples me? I cannot live normally. It keeps me up at night. I can't..." He gasped for air. "...go on like this..." _All thanks to your darned 'manual breathing' trick! You are going to pay for this, Abarai Renji._

"Captain, I... I'm the same." _I can't stop thinking about you, either. I love you! _

That was it. That was the moment he'd been waiting for!

He used Kira's Amazing Secret Technique (TM). Indeed, Byakuya's stiff body bent backwards. He wouldn't escape, he couldn't escape, and he'd be able to look into those heavy-lashed eyes for as long as he wanted... They were so close, so close he could see his nostrils flapping as he drew a sharp breath. Byakuya's nostrils were beautiful.

He pinned him to the wall, but he didn't kiss him. Not that he wasn't eager to, but he'd promised himself he'd wait for a positive sign, although he wasn't sure what he was looking for. Byakuya's deadpan expression, even if just a cover-up, didn't really help.

Wasn't he forgetting something? Ah, right. Lastly, he grabbed his ass, for good measure. Byakuya's noble backside felt soft under his touch.

Before he knew it, his captain's hand was tightly clasped around the hilt of his zanpakutou. His zanpakutou, that's right. And his eyes, they'd turned into twin cinema screens that played snippets of Renji's life, from his earliest memories up to that very moment.

Uh-oh.

"Scatter..."

—

Renji was crushed, trashed, completely annihilated. Every bit of his skin had been mercilessly senbonzakura'd, and at that moment he was no more than a bandage-covered lump of raw flesh. But even in his deplorable supine position in one of the beds of the Fourth Division quarters, he had a reason to smile: the Seaweed Ambassador was kindly looking down at him from the windowsill in the form of a foot-tall clumsily hand-sewn doll.

At least his captain had felt bad enough to send him a nonstandard get-well present.

That was a start, he thought.

* * *

Notes: You are now breathing manually!  
...You don't want to know how many times it's happened to me while writing this.

So, here's my first oneshot on ffnet. A rather pointless piece, hmmm. It kind of reminds me of those 'Shinigami Encyclopedia' segments, must be because of all the drunken people and angry Byakuya. But just like the Encyclopedia, if it made you smile the tiniest bit, I consider myself satisfied!


End file.
